


Slow Dance

by mistleto3



Series: Sarufem!mi [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Fake Dating, Fluff, Middle School, Rule 63, Sarumi Fest 2016, School Dance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7458139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistleto3/pseuds/mistleto3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saruhiko pretends to be Misaki’s date for the school Valentine’s dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a combination of drabble prompts on Tumblr.  
> The first was sent by aka-no-otenba and requested a Valentine's Day fic set during their middle school years.  
> The second was sent by theotakufairy "We were dancing but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and we’re standing here awkwardly staring at each other" from [this](http://mikototsu-trash.tumblr.com/post/140642211428/right-to-the-good-parts-prompt-list) list. 
> 
> This fic is also available on [Tumblr](http://mistleto-3.tumblr.com/post/147242918869/are-you-still-taking-writing-requests-id-love)
> 
> For Sarumi Fest 2016.

Misaki had blurted out the lie in something of a panic, and now she’d gotten both herself and Saruhiko stuck with the consequences. She'd been quietly confident that nobody would ask her to their school's Valentine’s Dance (indeed, she'd complained loudly that proms were too much of a stupid Americanised tradition that she had no interest in), and she’d barely given another thought about the damned event since the date was announced a few weeks ago.

And then someone had asked her. It hadn’t just been any someone either- it was a member of the old Yata Team, as she’d called it back then. The friends who, she discovered, had slandered her behind her back about a year ago now. There was a haughty smirk on his face as he asked her, as though he knew for certain that she was that lonely and desperate enough to say yes. By the looks of his expression, it seemed he was looking forward to withdrawing the offer and humiliating her, just as she was beginning to hope that she wouldn’t be the only girl in the grade without a date.

The other two members of her old Yata Team were nowhere to be seen- as far as Misaki knew, they weren’t friends with this guy any more. The other two seemed to have grown up a bit, whereas this one remained a rotten egg and had now taken to hanging out with the school thugs, smoking behind the bike sheds.

He’d become quite angry when Misaki told him she’d rather drink bleach than go to the dance with him (she never had been tactful). The affair had quickly devolved into a shouting match, and when Misaki noticed that his fists were clenched and had begun to tremble, she realised she might have gotten herself in a little over her head. Unlike Misaki, her ex-friend had kept growing past the age of 12, and he towered a good four inches over her. Misaki was strong and athletic for a girl her height, but in a straight-up fist fight against someone with that much of a size advantage, even she had to admit her odds were slim.

He was bellowing at her now, swearing and cursing as he asked why someone like her felt she was too good for him.

Floundering for an excuse, Misaki glanced around for backup, but the only person nearby was her only friend, who hovered uncomfortably on the edge of her peripheral vision, not wanting to get involved in the violence.

"Fushimi," she blurted. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her friend’s eyebrows rise in irritation- he evidently hadn’t wanted the thug’s attention to be drawn to him if he could help it. As long as Misaki wasn’t in any immediate danger, he’d been content to stay out of their dispute.

The boy facing Misaki narrowed his eyes, his fingers still twitching as though he ached to throw a punch in her direction. “What about him?” He spat the words through gritted teeth.

 “I’m going with Fushimi, so I can’t go with you.”

Saruhiko had the good sense to remain silent- normally he would have called her out on her bullshit, but he had no desire to see his best friend’s nose get broken.

The boy glanced between the pair of them, then clicked his tongue and stalked away, muttering something under his breath about a pity date, and Saruhiko finally slunk back over to her side once they were alone in the corridor once more.

“What a pig,” she muttered darkly once the guy was out of earshot, “And then he wonders why a girl doesn’t want to date a jerk like him. Maybe if he wasn’t such an ass, and took no to mean no without a girl having to say she’s got a boyfriend before he backed down…” She let out a frustrated huff.

“I’m not your boyfriend.” Saruhiko pointed out.

“I know, but I didn’t want to get my face punched in, so you gotta pretend, just until the dance.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue as though nothing could sound more tedious, but he didn’t protest.

“What the hell was all that even about, anyway? Why ask me? We haven’t spoken in like a year.” Misaki grumbled.

“Might have been something to do with the joke polls going around on Jungle.”

“What polls...?”

“You know how in American yearbooks they have those superlative awards like ‘Prom Queen’ and ‘Most Likely to Succeed’ and that kind of thing?”

“Yeah…?”

“Apparently people are voting on things like ‘Ugliest Girl’ and ‘Ugliest Guy’ and ‘Most Likely to be Gay’.” Fushimi’s voice was matter-of-fact.

“Where the hell are you going with this? Get to the point.” Misaki snipped, though her stomach suddenly felt heavy at the sneaking suspicion of what Saruhiko was going to say next.

“You’re in the lead for ‘Most Likely to Die a Kissless Virgin,’ and apparently people have started placing bets about whether or not they can steal your first kiss.”

Misaki blinked in surprise. She’d half been expecting to have been voted the ugliest girl, and she was oddly comforted that the title hadn’t been given to her. Still, the knowledge that people were placing bets like that was vastly disconcerting to her.

“I’m 13! It’s not weird to not have kissed anyone yet, and it’s gross that people want to _steal_ someone’s first kiss; isn’t that assault or harassment or something?”

“It is. I’ve been crashing chatrooms I find those bets in, but they keep popping back up. If it’s any consolation, I got ‘Most Likely to be Gay’.”  

Misaki managed a brief, faint smile at the comment, then sighed. “I don’t even wanna go to this dumb dance.”

“Then don’t go?” Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, as if asking why that wasn’t obvious to her.

“I have to go, idiot. If I don’t it’ll look like I was lying about having a date to save face, and I actually am the biggest prude in the school.”

“Why does it matter what they think?” Saruhiko asked in an almost bored tone. “It’s not like it’s exactly a bad thing to be a kissless virgin at our age, anyway.”

“S-still…!” Misaki couldn’t quite explain why it mattered to her, and even if she could, she knew Saruhiko wouldn’t understand, so she didn’t bother. Instead, she changed the subject. “So are you coming with me to the dance or not?”

“Fine,” he conceded. “But only because the second-hand embarrassment of you showing up alone would kill me, and I don’t want people to think I’m some jerk who stood you up.”

Misaki gave him a searching look, somewhat sceptical of his answer. “Why does it matter what they think?” she parroted back at him, suspecting that his reply hadn’t totally been the truth.

He merely rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, then avoided the question. “We’re going to be late for class.”

* * *

Saruhiko had been acting ever so slightly off during the two weeks between the incident with the old member of the Yata Team and the Valentine’s Dance itself. He hung a little closer to Misaki than he usually did, sitting right beside her at lunch with barely a few inches between them, and walking close to her side on their way to the bus stop. He also seemed to be paying closer attention to his surroundings than usual, his gaze darting up whenever he saw someone pass a little too close to the pair of them. It was almost like having a somewhat lanky guard dog. Misaki wasn’t sure where it came from all of a sudden, but she had a nagging suspicion that it had something to do with the wagers currently being taken concerning her.

Despite Saruhiko’s warning that it contained spyware, Misaki downloaded the Jungle app and made a fake profile to look into the gossip- she couldn’t help herself, not with the sudden increase in sideways glances that she was receiving in the hallways. The wagers seemed to be mostly for jokes, with little more than pocket change being bet on them, but being called a “prude” and “frigid” stung, especially when the insults were directed at her simply because she was one of the last girls in her grade to have never had a boyfriend. She hoped that having a date to the dance, even if it was only a fake date, would at least put a damper on the teasing.

Initially, Misaki had felt largely reluctant about the dance; she thought it was frivolous, and dressing up in a fancy gown and being corralled into a room with a load of other teenagers, most of whom Misaki wasn’t fond of in the slightest, didn’t sound anything like her definition of a good time. However, as the day approached, she found herself growing increasingly nervous. Misaki wasn’t normally the sort to put much thought into outfits, but she spent several hours wandering around department stores until she found a dress that she was satisfied with.  

Jitters began to plague her as the days counted down, and she began to find that her mouth would go dry at the thought of the whole affair. It dawned on her the evening beforehand that the dance was on Valentine’s day itself, which meant she really ought to give Saruhiko some chocolates- he _was_ her date. It was already getting late, but Misaki refused to buy store-bought candies- she was dead set on making them herself. Fuelled by determination alone, she got them finished by midnight, though as she arranged them in the gift box, she felt they still looked a bit unfinished. After a quick rummage through the cupboards, she found a few tubes of writing icing from when she’d helped her siblings make cookies a few weeks ago. Her fingers twirled above the box for a brief moment as she debated which colour to choose, before she finally settled on the blue icing. She only picked it because the colour reminded her somewhat of Saruhiko’s eyes, though she’d never tell him that on pain of death. She iced a messy heart on the top of each candy, then finally regarded them in satisfaction. They looked a little haphazard and they weren’t exactly pretty, but they tasted pretty good, in Misaki’s opinion.

When Valentine’s morning finally rolled around, Misaki struggled to keep her tapping feet still, irritated by Saruhiko’s comparative calm. She watched him from across the classroom, a faint scowl on her face at how completely unruffled he appeared while she sat there feeling almost nauseous from the anxiety that coiled and uncoiled in her abdomen. The box of chocolates in her bag seemed to be taunting her, and she wondered why she’d gone to so much effort making them in the first place- it wasn’t like they were dating.

Misaki finally breathed a sigh of relief when the bell rang for lunch- afternoon lessons had been cancelled for senior students because of the dance, and it was just as well- Misaki could barely concentrate on a word her teacher spoke all morning.

As she waited at the bus stop with Saruhiko, she finally worked up the courage to give him the chocolates. There was very little ceremony in the gift giving- she pulled the box out of her bag and thrust them less-than-gracefully into her friend’s arms.

He peered at her questioningly over the frames of his glasses, as though some strange protuberance had sprouted in the centre of her forehead.

“Why did you buy me chocolates?” he asked bluntly, after taking a few seconds to process her out-of-character display of affection.

“I didn’t buy them, I _made_ them, idiot. As if I’m going to give shop-bought chocolates,” she protested, incredulous.

“But _why_?”

“We’re pretending to be dating, you ass.” Misaki could feel her cheeks burning. “It’s not as if anyone else was going to get you chocolates anyway. I didn’t want you to be the saddo who didn’t get anything for Valentine’s day.”

“It’s not like I care if people think that about me.”

“Well, you have some chocolates to eat now, and even if they don’t have romantic motivations or anything dumb like that, they taste pretty good, and I know how much you like junk food.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Saruhiko maintained a bored tone, but when Misaki caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window of the bus, she could have sworn she saw him smiling.

* * *

Saruhiko held his breath as he pushed open the front door of his cavernous, empty house. He hid the chocolates inside his blazer out of habit, even though there was nobody home. The last time _that guy_ had shown up had been just over a week ago- he never came back twice in such a short space of time, and that guy’s wife was never home this early. Still, he was somewhat on edge; he could imagine what that would say if he caught Saruhiko with a box of Valentine’s chocolates. His scathing, mocking voice rang as clearly in Saruhiko’s skull as it would have if he was really there. But the house was empty, and he shook his head to clear the thought.

He hurried upstairs and closed his bedroom door, tucking himself into the corner of his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and listened intently to the silence of the house, just in case there came the sound of footsteps. It was only after a full minute of quiet that he finally dared to open the box. The candies weren’t exactly neat, and each was decorated with a slightly skewwhiff love heart in blue icing, but there was something very ‘Misaki’ about them, even if giving Valentine’s chocolate was something totally un-Misaki. But the fact that it was so unusual for her to make a gesture like this made it more special somehow. He took one of the candies from the box and popped into his mouth, letting it melt on his tongue. Despite their slightly misshapen appearance, they were delicious. He found his lips curling up slightly at the corners as he worked his way through the box, wanting to finish them all before anyone else found them.

Once the box was empty, he glanced over at his suit, which hung from the handle of his wardrobe. It was plain, but expensive, though there was little in the house that wasn't. That guy’s wife had bought it for a funeral of some family member that Saruhiko hadn’t known, but whose send-off he had been obligated to attend anyway. He hadn’t seen any point in buying a new one just for this stupid dance- this one was perfectly presentable.

He showered and changed quickly, not bothering to do anything special in preparation for the dance aside from squirting a spritz of cologne onto his wrists as an afterthought before he descended the stairs. He held the empty chocolate box in his hand, wanting to dispose of it in a public trashcan outside somewhere so that neither of his parents would find it and start asking questions.

“Doesn’t my little monkey look fancy, all dressed up in his penguin suit?”

Saruhiko froze at the top of the stairs. Waiting for him at their foot was Niki with a wide, almost preternatural grin twisting his face into a macabre expression that looked more like a mask than a human face.

“What are you doing here?” Saruhiko forced his voice to be expressionless, disguising the way his heartbeat had suddenly accelerated. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

“Why wouldn't I be here? This is technically my house. Besides, your mother told me there was a school dance on today. Not that I expected you to go- you're too much of a loner to socialise normally aren’t you? But on the off chance you decided to drag yourself out of that bedroom of yours, it’s only right I should see you off, isn’t it?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and refused to reply, doing his best to act unperturbed.

“I don't suppose it’ll matter if you’re a little late. There’s no way you have a date waiting for you, is there?” Niki teased.

“Yeah I do, actually,” Saruhiko snapped.

Niki burst into peals of acidic laughter that resounded eerily off the walls of the foyer. “You’re joking, aren’t you? Who’d agree to go on a date with you?” Niki paused, a smirk spreading across his lips as a look of realisation flickered in his eyes. “It’s not that Misaki girl, is it?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue once more but didn’t answer, forcing himself to start descending the stairs, one step at a time, towards his father.

“Careful with girls like that. She knows you’re from money- one day she’ll poke a hole in a condom and you’ll be stuck with a bride and a kid you never wanted. Don’t make the same mistake I did and get saddled with a brat who’s only good for entertainment.”

“Shut up,” Saruhiko hissed through gritted teeth. He tasted something metallic in the back of his mouth. He was almost used to his father's torment- it was something he’d learned to expect since he was barely a toddler. But he couldn’t listen to that guy insult his best friend.

“Mind your manners, monkey,” Niki chided, snatching the empty candy box from Saruhiko’s fingers as he shoved past. “What are these?”

“Obligation chocolates.” Saruhiko’s tone was deadpan.

Niki guffawed under his breath at the explanation. “I don’t suppose you can expect much better.”

Saruhiko ignored him, gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw ached. Nausea coiled in his stomach, but he swallowed it back, steeling himself and starting over towards the door with Niki’s scathing laughter ringing in his ears.

* * *

Saruhiko stepped off the bus and walked up to the door of the Yatas’ apartment, then rapped on the wood with his knuckles.

“I’ll get it!” He heard Misaki’s voice sounding from somewhere within the dwelling. Her shoes clicked against the floorboards as she ran over, then the lock rattled and finally she pulled open the door.

Misaki’s hair was tied into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck, with a few curled tendrils hanging loose to frame her face. Subtle makeup accentuated her features- a hint of rouge coloured her cheekbones, her lashes were darkened with mascara, and her lips were tinted with gloss. Her dress was a pale, mint green colour that contrasted with the fiery red of her hair. Its skirt flowed in loose folds around her thighs, and the lacy hem finished just below her knee.

Saruhiko was quiet for a moment at the sight of her. He’d never seen her dressed up before, never seen her dressed _feminine_ before. Even at school, she wore elements of the boys’ uniform, and a pair of shorts beneath her skirt. Her tomboyish nature extended past her dress sense too- she acted more like the boys in her class than like the other girls. Stereotypically girly interests like gossip magazines and nail varnish never even seemed to enter her radar. So seeing her like this was nothing short of weird.

But even if it was unusual, hell did she look pretty.

Saruhiko cleared his throat, shaking away the intrusive thoughts, then asked: “You ready to go?”

“Let’s get this over with,” Misaki said with a nod.

There was no linking of arms, no hand-holding as they made their way to the bus stop- they walked as they always did. But for Saruhiko at least, the atmosphere was totally different. He’d almost forgotten Niki’s taunts out of the sheer shock of seeing Misaki dressed up, despite them being flung at him less than half an hour ago. It felt weird to be with Misaki while she looked like this. Since they met, Saruhiko had always thought of her as Misaki- not as a girl, or even as a friend particularly, she was just Misaki, the only person in the world he really cared about. Thinking of her in terms of arbitrary labels like “friend” or “girl” wasn't something Saruhiko found any purpose in.

But now that he actually paid attention to it, he was hyperaware of how feminine she was. He hadn’t really noticed that she was pretty before, but seeing her like this, it was impossible not to. Her wide, warm, hazel eyes, her long lashes, the slight curl to her bright auburn hair, it was all stuff that, while he was aware of it, didn’t hold any importance to him before. And now it was staring him in the face. He almost felt nervous, like there was a sort of static between them, and if he got any closer it would shock him. The idea that people would see them arriving at the dance together and assume they were dating (not that “dating” really meant anything to 13 year olds) made something in his stomach feel strange, almost as though it were fluttering. He chided himself internally. _What a stupid thought._

The dance was being held in the school’s sports hall, and when they arrived, the room was dim, lit only by spinning coloured lights projected from a cheap disco ball hanging from the ceiling. The room was outlined by stalls held by many of the extracurricular clubs, most of them hosting games, or selling food. In one corner of the room was the dance floor, which was largely empty at this early hour. The music was fairly quiet, and students were still filtering in, most of whom were arm-in-arm with a date.

“How lame. It looks like something out of a cheesy western rom-com,” Misaki observed, and Saruhiko chuckled in agreement. There was something quite artificial about the whole affair- it seemed contrived, but that could just have been because neither of them really wanted to be there.

At first, they didn’t seem to know quite what to do with themselves, wandering idly from brightly-coloured stall to brightly-coloured stall, and occasionally pausing to buy snacks. Few words were exchanged between them- both of them felt too out-of-place to have much to say, and the music was just loud enough to hinder any attempt at conversation. It didn’t help that Saruhiko could barely look at his friend without the change in her appearance catching him by surprise. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to her being pretty- she’d always been pretty in a sort of understated way- but he wasn’t used to being smacked around the jaw by just _how_ pretty she was every time he glanced in her direction. It was starting to become somewhat distracting.

Once they’d completed their circuit around the stalls, they sat down at the table that was the furthest possible from the dance floor, and Misaki kicked off her shoes under the table, muttering something about the heels killing her, despite them barely being higher than an inch. She then turned to Saruhiko and said something, but words were lost beneath the beat of the music.

“Huh?” Saruhiko asked.

“I said I’ve never seen you dressed up properly before.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Suits you,” she commented, then smirked at the unintentional pun.

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. “Suits you, too. You should dress like an actual girl more often,” he commented, half-jokingly.

Misaki snorted. “Could you imagine me wearing sundresses and shit like that? I only wear skirts at school because I have to,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, true,” Saruhiko said with a slight smile. There was something sort of endearing about her tomboyishness.

Misaki returned his smile, then seemed to catch sight of something over Saruhiko’s shoulder, and her expression darkened. He glanced back to see what she was looking at, and spotted the boy who had asked her to the dance as a joke a few weeks back. The girl on his arm had a vaguely discontent expression on her face.

She clicked her tongue, lowering her gaze in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice her, and muttered something darkly under her breath that Saruhiko couldn’t quite make out, though he was sure it was bursting with profanity.

The boy’s gaze swept around the room, and as it crossed the pair of them, a smirk twisted his lips. Misaki braced herself for him to come over and say something scathing, but he turned and walked in the opposite direction. Misaki breathed a sigh of relief, then returned her attention to her friend.

“I’m surprised that jerk even got a date,” she remarked.

Saruhiko nodded his agreement, then Misaki’s attention turned towards the dance floor, which was a little busier than it had been when they arrived, but was still fairly sparse. A few people swayed awkwardly beside their dates, while the rest of the floor was dominated by the theatre kids, who didn’t seem to have the same level of embarrassment as everyone else.

As time passed, however, the floor began to fill up as people began to get into the celebratory atmosphere. Misaki still didn't seem totally convinced by the whole affair, but it looked to Saruhiko like she at least liked the song that was playing- her foot tapped under the table, and she was mouthing along to the lyrics of the chorus.

“You don’t want to go up there, do you?” Saruhiko asked jokingly, his eyebrow raised.

Misaki blanched. “Hell no.”

“Good.”

From behind them, there came the sound of a voice, speaking in a gossipy tone, but also in sort of a stage-whisper, as if he wanted to be heard. It was the boy from the old Yata team again, who’d taken a seat at the next table along from them without them noticing.

“Of course he doesn’t want to dance with her- he’s only here as a pity date. Nobody else wanted to go with her, and he’s her only friend. He probably just felt bad because he didn’t want her to be the only girl with no date.”

Misaki gritted her teeth. She knew he was just saying it to get to her, as petty revenge for having snubbed him before, but it still stung. She glanced at Saruhiko, who had clearly heard too, judging by the irritated expression on his face, and on a whim, she seized his wrist.

“Come on,” she ordered, stuffing her feet back into her shoes and standing up, then towed Saruhiko over to the dance floor. Her friend blinked at her in surprise from behind his lenses, but it was clear there was no arguing with her. She evidently had a point to prove.

She pulled him to the edge of the dance floor, spun him around none-too-gently to face her, and yanked his hands onto her waist. He looked severely bemused by the whole incident, and as the pair begun to sway awkwardly in time with the music (Misaki hadn’t considered that neither of them knew how to dance) his gaze kept flickering down to where his hands rested on her sides. Despite their close friendship, the pair had never expressed their bond through physical affection, so to be in such close proximity to Misaki made Saruhiko’s heartbeat thunder in his skull.

They’d reached the floor just as the song playing was drawing to its conclusion, and the pair exchanged slightly alarmed looks as the next song began- a slow love ballad. Saruhiko stared at her for a moment, with a look on his face like someone with no knowledge of driving who had suddenly been thrust behind the wheel of a car. Misaki’s cheeks burned, but they’d barely been on their feet thirty seconds- she couldn’t just go and sit back down now, not without becoming even more of a laughing stock. Painstakingly, she took a small step closer to Saruhiko and rested her cheek against his shoulder, then continued to sway in time with the music, practically wrapped in his arms. He could feel her shaking with embarrassment against him, but her resolve was steady- better this than be humiliated by her ex-friend. She swallowed back her nerves and wrapped her arms around her friend’s waist to steady herself, hiding her face in his jacket as they slow-danced clumsily. The feeling of static between them had returned with a vengeance- wherever their skin was in contact, it tingled.

The song felt as though it was drawn out for hours, and it was only when the singer warbled her final note that the pair realised they’d barely been breathing for the whole of the song’s duration. They practically leapt apart as the song ended, and hurried away from the dance floor so quickly that Misaki almost stumbled over her shoes. They fled out onto the playing field, which had been scattered with more tables and stalls and lit with twinkling fairy lights. Misaki collapsed onto one of the seats with a huff, her cheeks still flushed bright red, and Saruhiko sat down quietly beside her.

“Can we stop pretending to be dating now? It’s way too awkward,” she exclaimed.

“Agreed.”

“I don’t get why people make such a fuss about who you’re dating in middle school anyway- it’s not like people stay with their middle school sweethearts until they’re old and wrinkly. So what if I haven’t kissed anyone yet? So what if I never kiss anyone? That’s nobody’s damn business but mine.”

Saruhiko nodded in concurrence.

“So why do people get so annoying about it? It’s not like it’s weird to not have kissed anyone; I’m only 13!” she grumbled, then sighed. “Boys are a waste of time anyway,”

“I’m a boy,” Saruhiko pointed out.

“You don’t count- you aren’t some douche who makes bets on how many years it’ll be before I’ll get within 6 feet of another guy.”

“People are jerks in middle school, but they’ll grow up eventually. Even then, it doesn’t matter what they think.”

“Yeah, I guess... still... it’d be nice to know what all the fuss is about.”

“With what?”

“Ya know... kissing and stuff.” There was a forlorn look on her face as she spoke. Misaki wasn't the type to get upset over trivial things like this, or at least not openly so. The fact that people acted so incredulous about even the possibility that someone wanted her had clearly cut deep.

 _Kids can be cruel_ , Saruhiko thought.

“Probably not as good as it’s made out to be,” he commented. “I haven’t kissed anyone either. It’s not a big deal. The jerk in there might have a date, but that doesn’t mean he has friends, or that he’s happy,” he put on a bored tone as he spoke, as though nothing could be more obvious.

She smiled weakly. “Yeah, you’re right. Doesn’t mean I’m not curious though.”

Saruhiko couldn’t help himself. He leaned in towards her and pressed the softest of kisses to her cheek. A quiet squeak of surprise rose in the back of Misaki’s throat, and she stared at him in astonishment, her eyes wide, mouth hanging open, and face burning.

“You said you were curious, didn’t you?” His voice came out a little quieter than he’d expected it to, but otherwise he did a much better job of hiding his bashfulness than she did.

“T-t-thanks...” she stammered. “C-can we go back to being normal friends now? This is way too embarrassing.”

He chuckled quietly. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“Thanks for coming to the dance with me...”

“I wasn't about to watch that guy beat you up.”

“Still...”

“It’s no big deal, really. ‘S what friends are for I suppose.” The word ‘friends’ left an almost bitter aftertaste on Saruhiko’s tongue. It didn’t seem like a strong enough word for his bond with Misaki- she was the only person in the world he cared about, and the only person who cared about him. Everyone else’s opinion be damned- hers was the only one that mattered to him. He didn’t think that kind of relationship could truly be summed up by the word ‘friend.’

Or perhaps it was that he wanted to be more than that... He chased off the thought instantly. The only reason he was thinking that was because of the scenario- they were each other’s date to the dance, and she’d bought him chocolates, she was wearing a pretty dress, and for a moment there, they’d been dancing so close together that their lips would have met if he’d taken half a step towards her. It was just the atmosphere of the night, he told himself. Just his teenage hormones muddying his thoughts. It was like Misaki said- middle school crushes don’t last. No point jeopardising their friendship just to indulge the nagging desire to hold her hand. Things would go back to normal now, and Saruhiko was content with normal, or as content as he could be with a family like his. Still, as awkward as their clumsy slow-dance had been, he knew he would look back fondly on the memory of those few minutes he spent with his arms around Misaki.


End file.
